


When I'm Gone

by nagi_schwarz



Series: The Oppenheimer Effect [79]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Stargate SG-1
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-18
Updated: 2017-06-18
Packaged: 2018-11-15 16:53:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11235198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nagi_schwarz/pseuds/nagi_schwarz
Summary: Written for the comment_fic prompt: "Any, any, remember me when I'm gone."Damien uses his one phone call to say goodbye.





	When I'm Gone

Damien knew the drill. He only got one phone call, and he got that one phone call by being calm and penitent and polite to the officers running the drunk tank. (He wasn’t drunk, but he’d managed to feign it sufficient to get charges for drunk and disorderly instead of solicitation, because he knew how to survive, and nature’s credit card was less dangerous than slinging and dealing.) So he widened his eyes and ducked his chin and looked as innocent as possible - he wasn’t nearly as good at it as Tyler had been, Tyler with his big dark eyes and fluffy hair and heart-shaped face - and asked for his one phone call.  
  
Just one. His last one.  
  
And the officer, a pudgy, middle-aged Latino man, nodded and directed him to cuff up. Damien obeyed, waited patiently for the officer to let him out of the cell and lead him down the hall to the phones.  
  
Damien knew the number by heart, had dialed it a thousand times, a million times, always hung up before it rang.  
  
This time he let it ring.  
  
It rang and rang and rang until the machine picked up.   
  
 _You’ve reached the Mitchell Lorne Nealson household. We are Cameron, Tyler, Evan, and JD!_  
  
Cammie narrated most of the message, but each of them said their own names. Where were Shep and Rodney?  
  
 _Leave a message after the tone, and we’ll get back to you as soon as we can._  
  
And there was the beep.  
  
Damien cleared his throat. “Hey Cammie, it’s me, Damien. I just wanted to say - thanks. For being a good teacher. All of you are awesome teachers. I bet Tyler’s really happy for him, and I’m happy for him. I am. Hope Sasha and Tina are okay. Remember me when I’m gone, okay? Tell Shep and Rodney I miss them, too. Thanks for everything -”  
  
“Son?”  
  
Damien’s chest tightened.  
  
It was Cammie, his Southern drawl deeper when he was sleepy. It was the middle of the night.  
  
“Damien? Where are you?”  
  
“Cammie?”  
  
“Damien, tell us where you are, we’ll come get you.”  
  
“I’m in jail,” Damien said, feeling helpless and ashamed.  
  
“In jail where?”  
  
“In Council Bluffs, Iowa.”  
  
“How long are they holding you for?”  
  
“Probably just till the morning.” Damien’s head spun. What was Cammie saying? “Why?”  
  
There was noise in the background, voices. Evan and JD. Tyler, too.  
  
“Is there somewhere you can go, somewhere safe? Just for a couple of days.”  
  
The shelters were dangerous. Damien would rather sleep on the streets. “Not really.”  
  
There was cursing, and then Evan got on the phone.  
  
“Damien, I’m online right now, booking you a motel room. You go there, and you  _stay there_  until we get there, all right?”  
  
“But - why?”  
  
Only Tyler was on the phone, talking a mile a minute. “Damien! Are you okay? Are you hurt? Have the police been nice to you? We’ve all been so worried! Tina and Sasha miss you! If you come back and work on packets you can graduate and walk and everything.”  
  
Damien was confused. No. Why would he go back? He had nothing there. He just wanted to say goodbye.  
  
“I’m trying to save up enough money to get a place of my own. We could be roommates,” Tyler continued. “It’d be just like we always talked about.”

“Like we talked about before you got adopted,” Damien said bitterly, and immediately regretted it.  
  
Tyler made a small hurt sound, but then Evan was back on the phone. He told Damien the name of the motel he’d booked, the address, made Damien repeat it back to him three times to ensure he remembered it.  
  
“Stay there, son,” Cammie said. “At least one of us will be there in the next couple of days.”  
  
Damien couldn’t remember the last time anyone else had called him son, and he found himself saying, “Okay. I’ll stay there.”  
  
And the phone call ended.  
  
Damien stared at the phone for a long time. Then he turned and knocked on the door to let the officer know he was finished.  
  
“Your family sound like real nice people,” the officer said, and Damien remembered that all jail phone calls were recorded.  
  
Damien knew he ought to say that they weren’t his family, but he still desperately, desperately wished they were.  
  
“They are really nice people,” he said finally.  
  
“Are they the ones from the news?” the officer asked. He put Damien back into the cell, and Damien uncuffed obediently, passed the cuffs back through the bars.  
  
“I don’t know,” Damien said. “I don’t really pay attention to the news.”  
  
The officer flicked his gaze up and down Damien. “Fair enough. Yeah, but there was this thing, in Kansas, this summer. Bunch of homophobes beat up this guy in the wheelchair. Guy’s a hero, won a Medal of Honor, you know? And one of the other guys with him - he beat the hell out of all of those guys. Killed all but one of them with his bare hands. Apparently the hero, he had his son with him, and his boyfriend, and these guys saw him with his kid and boyfriend and just - went crazy. And then the cops and hospital in that town were crazy, too, treated the hero and his family like they were all criminals when they were victims.” The officer shook his head. “Real shame. Gives the rest of us a bad name, you know?”  
  
Cammie was in a wheelchair. He’d received the Medal of Honor. Evan was his boyfriend, and Tyler was his son. And JD - JD must have been the one to -  
  
Damien sagged against the bars. “How bad was it? For the man in the wheelchair.”  
  
“Real bad. I think he nearly died.”  
  
Damien squeezed his eyes shut. “Yeah, that’s them. Cammie - Cameron Mitchell. Air Force pilot. Got the Medal of Honor for - something. His boyfriend, Evan, was in the Air Force, too. And his son, Tyler - we were in foster care together. And JD - his uncle’s an Air Force general.”  
  
“Probably why he’s so badass,” the officer said, nodding wisely. “You got a good family, kid. Good luck. Keep your nose clean from here on out, all right?”  
  
Damien nodded. “I will.”   
  
The officer bade him good night, returned to his guard post.  
  
They were a good family, and they deserved better than Damien bringing them all down.  
  
 _Remember me when I’m gone._


End file.
